Touch
by ZeNami
Summary: Count Bleck doesn't like to seem vulnerable in front of his minions-- especially not Dimentio, who might just take advantage of it. But a heart lost can never heal... the Count doesn't want anyone but her. Heavy hints of M/M.


"And that, um, pretty much sums up the minutes from the last meeting."

"I see... remarked Count Bleck. That will be all for now, Nastasia."

"Yes sir, of couse. I'll, um, check on the minions."

Count Bleck watched his secretary leave the room, his observant eye hidden behind a monocle; sighing to himself as the door closed, he turned his eyes and posture back toward the window, staring out at the infinite blackness that made up the grounds of his castle. Black firelight flickered off the walls of his study, the bejeweled cover of the Dark Prognosticus sitting on his desk almost absorbing it-- Count Bleck had noticed, through his extensive interactions with the book, that it tended to suck in the light around it.

This was not the first time he had found himself lost in thought at his window, and it was not the first time he had been wishing things could have been different. Still, his resolve was absolute.

"These worlds are worthless without her," he murmured to himself, his red-orange eyes bitter under short, dark blue bangs, gloved hands folded delicately behind his back, holding his cane.

Presently there was a distortion in the air behind him; Count Bleck turned enough just in time to watch one of his minions materialize, startled from his thoughts. He had forgotten once again that locked doors did little to nothing to stop Dimentio from appearing when and where he wished.

"You look as gloomy as a school child who missed the bus," Dimentio spoke from behind his mask, his voice whimsical, floating an inch or two above the ground. "And you're normally so upbeat. Not dwelling on things again, are we, Count?"

Count Bleck lifted a gloved hand almost instinctively to the brim of his top hat, tipping it further down to shadow his eyes; he did not like to appear too emotional around his minions, especially Dimentio. He had never been too keen on Dimentio's presence, not trusting him in the slightest, but that passage in the book had forced him to keep him around, much to his distaste. He would have trusted his life to any of the others, but not the Master of Dimensions.

"Count Bleck would think," Count Bleck said carefully, avoiding looking at those twinkling eyes through the crescent-shaped holes in the mask. "that it would be none of your business, Dimentio. And this would also not be the first time Count Bleck has asked you not to come into his study uninvited."

Dimentio chuckled to himself, eyeing the Count up and down; slowly, he lifted a hand to his face, removing the mask that hid his true expressions, a smug smile curling his lips in place of the mask's permanent grin. His true face was coloured identically to his false façade. "Oh, but then I think I would never get in here," he mused, tilting his head, soft feathers of blonde hair tickling his forehead beneath his jester's hat.

"That would be fine," the Count sighed, almost frustrated, settling one hand on the desk near the Dark Prognosticus. He found himself wishing he could call Nastasia back in, or Mimi, or even O'Chunks-- if only to avoid being alone with Dimentio.

"Come now, don't be such a stiff," Dimentio cooed, almost immediately trailing into a chuckle as he drifted toward the desk, peering down at the book. "Such a wonderful new set of worlds you will create," He sing-songed, tipping his head up to look at the Count, almost challenging. "Won't you?"

The Count was looking out the window again. "Of course." He wouldn't look Dimentio in the eye when he said that-- he had also brought his hat down again. "Leave Count Bleck, Dimentio. Attend to your duties-- the man in red still has not been dealt with."

Dimentio hummed, casually seating himself on the desk, his mismatched eyes never leaving the Count. "But that's not what's on your mind, now is it? You're thinking about her again." His lips were curled into a smirk, which widened a notch upon seeing the Count flinch.

"That is again none of your business," Count Bleck nearly hissed, his eyes narrowed, still refusing to look at Dimentio. He turned himself fully to the window, his cloak pulled around his shoulders, cane gripped tightly in one hand.

"You must be terribly lonely," Dimentio purred, leaning forward until he slid from the desk, still not touching the ground as he floated around Count Bleck's back to his other side. "After all, what good is a world with no one to enjoy it with? But you make me wonder sometimes, my Count..." And at this, he slid black flingers up over Count Bleck's shoulders, drawing himself close until he was pressed against his back, folding down the back of his cloak to murmur against his ear. "Tell me..."

Count Bleck immediately shuddered, but didn't move, frozen.

"Is it.. that you miss her touch..." nimble fingers slid down and around the Count's chest, pressing against the front of one shoulder and crawling down toward the first button of his jacket. "Or is it... that you miss _touch_... my dear Count...?"

"You can't replace her," Count Bleck said, his voice somewhat strangled in control, face flushed below the darkness tainting the skin around his eyes. "No one can."

"I beg to differ," Dimentio whispered, his fingers coming up to trace the Count's jaw. "Just think... you and I could build perfect worlds together... and stand on top of that perfection, knowing it was all ours..." Dimentio's fingertips just barely traced the Count's lower lip-- and that was enough.

"Don't touch me," The Count snarled, jerking his shoulder in an attempt to shake him off. Dimentio chuckled in delight, and the air around him distorted again, only to allow him to reappear in front of the Count, leaning on him, both hands on his chest.

"Me, you said? Oh, now what happened to your delightful abuse of the third person?" Dimentio's voice was tainted with laughter, a smirk curling his lips, eyes twinkling almost dangerously. "Is something the matter, Blumiere?"

There was a short choking sound as Dimentio found himself forced up against the wall, held in place above Count Bleck's head by the solid mahogany shaft of his cane against his neck.

"Do not cross me, Dimentio," the Count snarled, forcing the cane harder against the jester's neck. "And do not dare to think that you could replace Timpani-- my heart died the day I lost her, and there's no turning back-- You are a minion, so play the part!"

Dimentio laughed beneath the pressure of the cane. "Very well-- I'll be off then..." He grinned, pushing the cane forward enough to look down at the Count, eyes glimmering mischievously. "Ciao!" And with that, he was gone, leaving behind nothing but a distorted space in the air.

Count Bleck shuddered, slowly lowering his cane and once again drawing his cloak around himself; turning back toward the Dark Prognosticus, flipping the pages open to reread the prophecies, a sick dread churned in his chest. He didn't want to admit it to himself, but if it came to it... he knew that he alone wouldn't have the strength to destroy Dimentio.


End file.
